The Random Ramblings of Rosalie Hale
by SwedenSara
Summary: My Twilight 25 challenge, round four. Random Rosalie drabbles, continued with photo prompts from The Writing Photo Prompt Challenge
1. Chapter 1

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com

**Prompts**: #20 (Stolen), #3 (Bliss), #5 (Damp), #14 (Quixotic), #7 (pic prompt), #2 (Acquiesce)

**Pen name:** SwedenSara

**Pairing:** Rosalie

**Rating:** T

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**

community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does that.

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**Stolen**

I know some vampires are grateful to their creators, thankful for this new 'life' they've been given. Life. What a cruel joke. My life was stolen from me, not once but twice: once by my fiancé and his friends, and once by Carlisle, my so called 'creator'. I hate that word. There is only one creator, and that is God. Carlisle is not a god. He sent me through purgatory, but that didn't get me anywhere. This is not a life, neither is it after-life. This is not heaven, neither is it hell. This is limbo. And I'm stuck here.

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**Bliss**

I know I come off as harsh and scornful. People think I lack empathy, that I'm incapable of feelings. That is not true. I love Emmett. I really do. The day I found him was the first day of my new calendar. I count the years not in Anno Domini, but in Anno Emmett. He is the light of my non-life, the meaning of my non-existence, and the reason I get up in the morning from my non-sleep. Without him, this way of non-being would be unbearable. He is the closest I will ever get to happiness. He is almost-bliss.

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**Damp**

I'm fascinated by suicides. My favourite pastimes at night used to be searching for haunted souls with no will to live. The thing is, I have a gift. Everyone assumes it's my beauty, and I let them believe that, but my real gift is finding those poor souls. I've never told anyone. I like to watch as they die, as they find the peace I so desperately long for. My favourite suicide is by white damp in cars. If I could, I'd choose that. To die in a car, surrounded by the scent of oil, leather and exhaust fumes… Wonderful.

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**Quixotic**

Edward is the most annoying man I've ever met. His mood swings are out of this world. If he's angry, he's furious. Sad Edward is miserable. When he's happy, he's euphoric. And do _not_ get me started on Edward in love, because that's just plain scary. That chivalry act he's pulling with Bella? I knew him moping around the house during the sixties would mess with his libido. He can never be just… normal. He's got to be manic-depressive or something, and the OCD? Dear Lord. It's too bad Carlisle isn't a psychiatrist. He'd have a hoot with that one.

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**#7 (picture, tent in the woods)**

The best wedding night Emmett and I spent together – and there have been a few – wasn't in a luxurious hotel, or on an exotic island or some extravagant resort. It was in an improvised tent made of blankets and sheets, with soft plush cushions inside and a thick duvet on the ground. Emmett had lit candles and lanterns outside, and we lay silently, watching the flickering lights as the night passed. He chose the best place I've ever been to: in the woods, on the spot where I found him. We drank a bear for dinner. It was oddly romatic.

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**Acquiesce**

I know people think I'm high-maintenance. In a way, I am. I don't see why I should be satisfied with anything less than the best. It's a product of my up-bringing, I'm sure, but since I involuntarily had to give up any chance of having a normal life, a family and a peaceful death, I think I'm entitled to the good things in life. It's not like I can't afford it, either. I guess my parents, social climbers that they were, would die of delight if they knew how wealthy I am now. They're already dead, though, like everyone else.

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**A/N White damp is an expression for carbon monoxide, a poisonous gas found in exhaust fumes. The expression is most commonly used when referring to mines.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com

**Prompts**: #17 (Simple), #4 (Collapse), #11 (Hollow), #1 (pic prompt), #6 (Defile)

**Pen name:** SwedenSara

**Pairing:** Rosalie

**Rating:** T

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**

community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does that.

* * *

**Simple**

People say Emmett is simple, as in simple-minded, uneducated, and thick-headed. He _is_ simple, but as in simple-hearted, innocent and honest. Being Emmett is being uncomplicated, unpretentious and natural. I'm nothing like that. I'm cynical, guileful and shrewd. Being Rosalie is being demanding, conceited and vain. Emmett is my antonym. He is everything that I'm not. I need him to outweigh my flawed character, to remind me of what it was like being a good person. He makes me want to do better. Being simple is not the same as being a simpleton. Being simple is being good. Like Emmett.

* * *

**Collapse**

I wasn't pleased when Bella showed up. In fact, I was furious. First, because it drove Edward away from us. I did not particularly miss Edward, but I don't like my family being scattered. Second, because he came back and decided to give her the whole story. It would have been better if he'd just finished her off. I know he wanted to. Now I have to spend every moment worrying that this life we've built here will fall apart. I finally have something similar to the family I wanted, and he has to go jeopardizing it over a _human_.

* * *

**Hollow**

I wanted a child so badly. I wanted a soft little baby to feed and care for. I dreamt of a lively boy in a sailor suit, with scrubbed knees and his socks slipped down. I longed for a pretty girl in a dress and a hat, playing tea party with her dolls in the garden. I wished for someone to hold close and love, to kiss boo boos for and walk to school. But I'm empty, petrified and hollow. I thought I would never get that. Then Nessie came. I know she's not mine, but she's more than enough.

* * *

**#1 (picture, w****hiskey bottle)**

Human memories are supposed to get dim and blurry. My memories aren't, they are sharp and clear. I remember the smell of liquor as their breaths washed over my face and the thumping sound as my head hit the ground. I remember the chilly air against my naked flesh and the searing pain as they forced themselves through my barrier. I remember their scornful laughs as they left me lying on the cold ground and the metallic scent of my own blood. I'm glad blood doesn't smell like that to me anymore. If it did, I'd be a lousy vampire.

* * *

**Defile**

The odour of dogs is permeating our house. It's disgusting. Even my clothes smell, and I haven't even let the animal touch them. I thought I would get used to it, but apparently that's not happening. If that thing doesn't get the hell out of here soon, I'm getting a new place for me and Emmett. I don't care that Nessie loves him and he's done some sort of imprinting on her. That, by the way, is a whole other level of sick. He's not only defiling my clothes, he'll be defiling Nessie as well. He needs to be neutered.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com

**Prompts**: #10 (Feign), #15 (Return), #12 (Push), #9 (Elixir), #8 (Demure)

**Pen name:** SwedenSara

**Pairing:** Rosalie

**Rating:** T

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**

community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does that.

* * *

**Feign**

I know my family thinks I should be better at hiding how I feel when it comes to Bella. I don't really see the point in that, though. Why should I pretend? She needs to know what we are risking because of her. If she doesn't understand that, she might put the people I care about in danger. I can't let that happen. I need to protect what's mine, and this family is still more mine than it is hers: _my_ parents, _my_ siblings and _my_ lover. I will not let her hurt them. I can't pretend I'm not worried.

* * *

**Return**

I will never forget the look of horror on his face when I came back for him. His eyes, widened in panic, his shallow breathing and the beads of sweat on his forehead was a wonderful sight to behold. The strong, bitter odour of fear and the stench of feces as he soiled himself were repulsive, yet strangely exciting. He babbled incoherently as I swept through the room, my red eyes shining, my blonde hair flowing down my shoulders and the white wedding dress swishing around my ankles. I was lethal, and he knew it. He paid with his life.

* * *

**Push**

I wish I could go back to LaPush. I had a few chances to visit before the wolves turned up and we agreed to stay off their land. The beauty of First Beach, with its black sand and enormous logs of driftwood, is only overshadowed by Rialto. I love the smooth, polished pebbles on Rialto. Red, green and grey, they create the dark bedding for a disarray of bright, silvery branches and logs, dried and bleached by salt and sun. The wild, frothy sea, with its repetitive waves crashing down on the beach, drowns all other sounds. I miss that.

* * *

**Elixir**

I have never tried it. I wonder what it tastes like. Is the difference as monumental as they say? Is human blood so much better, so much more fulfilling and satisfying? I don't know. I think animal blood is enough. It fills its purpose, and what more can you ask? I'm not that fond of the fur, it tickles my tongue and gets stuck between my teeth, but other than that it's really not bad. I've come to understand that human blood is sometimes tainted by alcohol, drugs and medicines. That never happens with animals. Their blood is always pure.

* * *

**Demure**

Bella provokes me. Not intentionally, because she sure as hell would never do anything to annoy anyone on purpose. But the way she is, the way she acts… It irritates me. That shy and bashful stuttering, the biting her lip and wringing her hands, it makes me want to slap her. And the way she lets Edward boss her about, accepting his overprotective stalker ways… Why doesn't she stand up for herself? I hate it when women yield to men. I want to kick their asses until they find their strength and take back the power, just like I did.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com

**Prompts**: #21 (Surface), #23 (Under), #24 (Wander), #13 (pic prompt)

**Pen name:** SwedenSara

**Pairing:** Rosalie

**Rating:** T

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**

community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does that.**

**

* * *

**

**Surface**

I wonder how people would react if they knew what was going on under the surface. There are so many creatures they have no knowledge of. Vampires and shapeshifters are probably just some of them. I haven't run into others, but I realize that a lot of the stories humans dismiss as fairytales are likely to be true. I always look very closely at the mist on the field outside our house, or in the meadow Edward considers "his and Bella's." I want to see the fairies my mother told me about as a child. I hope they are there.

* * *

**Under**

I like to have Emmett under me. I don't mean that I'm superior to him, not at all. If anyone's superior in our relationship, it's him. No, I like him under me in a sexual context. When we fuck – because really, that _is_ what we do – I like to feel that I'm in charge, that I'm the one calling the shots. Emmett thinks it's because of my history. I had no control at all my "first time." I wasn't in charge, Royce and his friends were, and it was horrible. Maybe Emmett's right. Or maybe I just like the view.

* * *

**Wander**

When I was human, I used to enjoy walking around with no particular destination. It was nice to wander the streets and look through the windows, or to sit in a park and watch people pass by. I liked to peek inside random shops and find odd things to buy as surprise gifts for friends and family for no reason at all. I don't do that a lot anymore. Alice has taken over the whole "shopping" routine, making it less like a spontaneous adventure and more like a military drill. She never wanders around. I don't enjoy shopping with her.

* * *

**#13 (pic prompt, bare feet)**

I don't like walking without shoes. The only ones who were barefoot as I grew up were the poor people that my parents spoke so condescendingly about. My mother always looked at people's shoes, and then she gave me her verdict in a whispered voice. "Those shoes are expensive, but if you look closely you see they are quite worn. Most likely hand-me-downs or charity." I always give my shoes away when I'm bored with them, but I take good care of them and the girl who wears my hand-me-downs can be quite sure that no one will ever notice.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com

**Prompts**: #16 (Ripple), #18 (Stagger), #19 (pic prompt), #25 (pic prompt), #22 (Trap)

**Pen name:** SwedenSara

**Pairing:** Rosalie

**Rating:** T

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**

community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does that.

* * *

**Ripple**

I like the way Emmett's muscles ripple as he moves. It is a bit sexist, I know, but if it was up to me, he would spend his days shirtless, flexing his muscles, doing heavy work just to show it off. Not that there is much that can be considered "heavy work" when you're a vampire, but still. Sometimes he comes down to the garage when I'm working on my cars. He strips down to his underwear and joins me under the car, acting as my very own car jack. I always finish up pretty fast when he does that.

* * *

**Stagger**

Our entire family is staggered by the news. Edward thinks the pregnancy will kill her. I'm not sure I even care about that. I care about the baby. They are concerned because they don't know what kind of creature it is. They talk about it like it's some sort of freak. It makes me wonder how they would've reacted if they were human and been told that the child was going to be disabled. Would they want to kill it too, or would they love it anyway? I think every baby is worth being loved, no matter its medical condition.

* * *

**#19 (pic prompt, airport)**

As much as I hate to admit it, I made the wrong assumptions when I heard about Bella jumping off the cliff. As much as I hate to admit it, it was wrong of me to tell Edward about it. As much as I hate to admit it, I was really scared that Edward would make his plans to kill himself work. As much as I hate to admit it, I like Edward a lot more than I want to. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm incredibly thankful to Bella for flying to Italy to save him.

* * *

**#25 (pic prompt, bath tub)**

I enjoy taking baths. I like lying in the warm water, surrounded by candles. It makes me feel human. There's really no need for it, though. I don't get dirty. I mastered the art of eating cleanly decades ago. Sometimes, when I hunt with Emmett, I let a few drops slip out the corner of my mouth. I only do it because it turns Emmett on. He likes to lick the blood from my mouth, to suck it off my lips. Men are easy like that. Once you find their turn-ons, it doesn't take much to get what you want.

* * *

**Trap**

Trap, as defined by me, Rosalie Hale:

Trap (noun); a device or technique used for catching game, such as animals or humans. The former used a week ago, the latter used in 1933. For further definition, see also; "Rosalie Hale being a vampire."

Trap (noun); a situation from which it is impossible to escape. For further definiton, see also; "Rosalie Hale being a vampire."

Trap (verb); to, by use of force, deception or other kind of advantage, take control of someone's life and restrict their own choice and free will. For further definition, see also; "Rosalie Hale becoming a vampire."

* * *

**A/N Thanks to Kimmydonn and FangMom, without you I wouldn't have been able to finish on time. Love you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**What is this - another chapter of Rosalie's ramblings? Why yes, it most certainly is. When The Twilight25 was over, I found another way of getting prompts for Rosalie. I've started writing for The Writing Photo Prompt Challenge, http : / / picprompt . blogspot . com**

**This blog provides me with picture prompts, and I write with Rosalie in mind. The texts are first published on the blog, then here on FFnet. I've expanded the writing from the 100 words limit I had in Twilight25, which is why the following chapters will be of varying length. I hope you don't mind!**

**Pictures used for these paragraphs can be found here:**

**http : / / s3prod . weheartit . netdna-cdn . com/images/2182719/17377_234872122796_678297796_3762967_7093146_n_large . jpg?1273351702**

**http : / / s3prod . weheartit . netdna-cdn . com/images/1194113/kiss_by_lidle_large . jpg?1261597642**

* * *

**Reflections on love**

The young lovers neither see nor hear me as I step out on the mossy track behind them. They are too wrapped up in their own little world to pay any attention to random woman in an otherwise deserted forest. I'm envious of their budding love, of how they can hold hands in public without anyone gossiping or spreading snide rumours. I could never do that when I was young. It was a different time back then. The fumbling efforts to be noticed by someone special, the hopeful flirting, the thrill of realizing your feelings are mutual, the hesitant search for the other one's hand... I never got to experience that. Sure, there was excitement when my family's efforts to make Royce notice me paid off, but that wasn't because I was in love with him. I was in love with the idea of a large society wedding, a mansion and a staff of housemaids and servants. By marrying Royce, I would get all of that. So silly - as if being served by a lot of people in a large house was more important than being loved by only one. I knew very little of love back then. I know more now.

It took me a long time to move past the cruelty I was a subjected to by Royce and his friends. My revenge gave me some relief, I can admit that, but I was convinced I would never be intimate with a man again - not by my own free will, anyway. Being as strong as I was gave me a sense of security that was crucial to my recovery. The fact that Edward wasn't interested in me was quite a relief, even though it also hurt my self-confidence. I was used to being coveted, and even though I would have rejected him, I still wanted to him to want me. So shallow. The bitterness of never getting to experience the love and longing I saw between Carlisle and Esme permeated my entire being. I watched their loving embraces and affectionate touches during the days, and heard their passionate lovemaking at night. The possibility of ever being able to share that with someone had been taken away along with my virginity - or so I thought. When I found Emmett, I found not only love, but also lust. It took time, but with his fierce love and patient affection, I could finally enjoy a man's touch again. Being with him hasn't changed what happened to me, but it has made the scars easier to bear. Every moment of Emmett's love fades them a little bit more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Written for The Writing Photo Prompt Challenge, http : / / picprompt . blogspot . com**

**The photo prompts**** can be found here: **

**http : / / data . whicdn . com/images/1164671/tumblr_kupj5omHvg1qzb2hmo1_400_large . jpg?1261126506 (Thoughts on Music)**

**and**

**http : / / data . whicdn . com/images/8246643/tumblr_liodphA4nc1qhfam3o1_500_large . jpg?1301160640**

**http : / / data . whicdn . com/images/8074148/juliett_maffashion_4_large . jpg?1300629471 (A Place to Rest)**

* * *

_**Thoughts on music**_

Esme was so thrilled when Edward started to play the piano again. It had been standing there, alone and quiet, for such a long time, and I knew Esme missed having the house filled with tunes. His melodies were dark and brooding for a long period of time, sparsely mixed with silvery sadness or muted melancholy. I always rolled my eyes whenever he sat down at the piano bench, annoyed with this public display of emotions that no one could escape with less than actually leaving the house. I had never forced my emotions on others like that, at least not intentionally, and I didn't particularly like being reminded of other peoples sadness. I had enough of my own to deal with.

Edward was never very good at expressing his emotions in words, but by listening to him we knew how he felt, whether we wanted it or not. He showed us his mind and temper with the music he played, and bared his soul with the tunes he composed. The house went awfully quiet when he stopped playing entirely. It was with great surprise that I found myself missing his music. It's different now. He's been playing a lot since he met Bella. I don't roll my eyes at him anymore. Well, sometimes, but that's just for show. I'm happy he's playing again. I would never say it out loud, but I don't need to. He knows.

* * *

**_A Place to Rest_**

Closely after my death, as I like to call my transition to vampire, I came back to my house in search of some memorabilia. I wanted something to hold on to, something to help me remember who I was and what I had lost. A few pictures, a porcelain doll and my old baby shoes disappeared from my house that night. If my parents ever missed them, I'll never know.

I visited Rochester again, years after my parents had passed away. Our old house stood there; it's facade still beautiful, but it's insides empty, broken and abandoned, just like me. I wandered among the debris and dust in the rooms once kept immaculately clean by my mother. A sad smile ghosted over my lips, knowing the disapproving look she'd have if she saw the state her precious home was in. I sat in there for hours, visiting the sometimes dim, sometimes fairly clear human memories of my childhood and my family.

The graveyard where my parents were buried had grown, and the old part of it had not been cared for in years. The relatives of those who lay there had passed away and the younger generations cared little about the graves of great grandparents. Some of the old tombstones were slanting precariously, slowly bending to the forces of nature. Lush, green moss covered them, giving the hard granite a velvety surface. Rays of sunlight filtered through the thick vegetation, like spotlights from God slowly moving over the cemetery, illuminating the forsaken graves one by one, showering them in light and giving them the attention they deserved, but didn't get anymore.

I regarded the engraved names on my family stone, tracing my own with my fingertips.

_Rosalie Hale - 1915-1933 - beloved daughter_

If I ever died - for real - I wished my vampire family would bring my ashes here. This would be a good place to rest.

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**PS TwistedinMasen did a pretty, pretty banner for this story. See it here! http : / / i1020 . photobucket . com/albums/af324/SwedenSara/Rosalie . png**


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